


Nice day for a pizza wedding

by star_k



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drinking, First Meetings, M/M, Miscommunication, Nerd Harry Styles, Pizza Deliverer Louis Tomlinson, Public Blow Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, aka there's semi-public sex, it's a thing, the pizza isn't the only thing super cheesy, wow that's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 15:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13907070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_k/pseuds/star_k
Summary: There’s a layer of total surrealness to have your own name denied by a stranger, while said stranger has your cock in their hands.Harry was glad he was in the sort of situation he knew exactly how that felt.Or, a story about how Harry, 18 year old Tumblr and photography enthusiast, ended up enjoying his birthday with the pizza boy, in a night filled with pizza, his faithful camera and the doubt of how to correct someone you were flirting with that he got Harry's name wrong.He only had Niall to blame.





	Nice day for a pizza wedding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyLondonderry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLondonderry/gifts).



> The title is a meme. 
> 
> As always, thank you to the people who always help me put my particular brand of crazy out to the world. You rock.
> 
> Written for the prompt: Birthday party Au where Marcel has no one to come to his eighteenth birthday so he steals away in the night (nervously) with the cute pizza boy. 
> 
> I took some liberties, hope you like it!

 

Harry sighed for the umpteenth time that night.

“It’s not a fucking big deal, Nialler,” he whispered as he typed every word into his phone. “I’m fine being alone.”

Kinda.

If he was being honest - and he wasn’t, not to Niall anyway -, he was very much used to being alone, but that night he was on the verge of being _lonely_.

He blamed it on being a wednesday, of all days. Wednesday normally had this staleness to them and turning 18 years old on a fucking Wednesday sort of doomed the whole concept of adulthood and what was to come. But saying that (or typing it, really) would guarantee another one of Niall’s famous mockeries of “Teenage Angst” and black-and-white-aesthetics and whatnot.

So: he was fine. Being alone late at night on your own birthday was fine. Being of legal age on a _Wednesday_ with nothing to do was great, thank you very much, universe.

_the fuck you are marcy m8_

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes, too used to his best friend’s antics by now. He’d grown to love him nonetheless, since nobody really knew him and accepted him just like he was besides (his family) and Niall.

_i swear i’ll buy you one of those delivery go go boys and then you’ll spend a proper bday i swear i will_

Scratch that, Niall was a menace and Harry regretted the day he sent a meme to him on tumblr trying to make friends with “the cool” mutual. Sixteen year old Harry was a dumb version of himself who did poor choices on social media (and life in general).

**do that and i’ll post every single selfie you’ve ever sent me, including the ‘is my dick swollen’ ones**

_but it’s a party!!!!!_

**no**

_i’ll buy you a cute boy, one with a big arse and a bigger dick_

**no**

_i’ll ask him to be dressed like a policeman_

**no**

_a leather daddy_

**a what? actually nvm no**

_a pizza boy_

**buy me a pizza instead, pepperoni with extra topping**

_i bet you’d like some extra toppings_

_a dom-inos eh?_

_pizza rut_

**i’ll fucking block you**

_maybe five guys *wink wink*_

**don’t, horan**

_wait_

_A MIME!!!!_

**fuck you**

_i’ll buy you marcel marceou and ask him to sexily strip off his stripped clothes_

_strip off stripped clothes repeat that 3 times fast_

Harry raised his hand to cover his face, unable to stop himself from grinning stupidly at his best friend’s stupid antics. In the end, he truly didn’t feel alone because he had him, didn’t he? Niall always got his back.

Honestly, that’d been how it all began. They’d been mutuals on tumblr for some time, both sixteen and stupid, reblogging about memes, football, music and movies. And to Harry, having a detached place from his reality to come out to had been everything - plus some place to experiment on who he was, what did he like and whatnot.

Choosing marcelmarceou as his url had been a given. He felt then like he’d been living a period of his life where his gestures and silence spoke louder than any words could. Not when he couldn’t come out to his family, still unsure of himself if he even truly were gay or whatnot. It could be a phase, couldn’t it? Except his crush on the popular and extremely funny (in his opinion) boy of his class kind of denied his doubts very vehemently.

So, marcelmarceou, the mime. Who one day decided to have a trial of the real thing and came out as a gay boy on tumblr, and besides the happy replies of congratulations, he did get a quite unsettling ask saying _“it was a pity, since (the anon) had quite a crush on him and now it was to waste ):_ ”. Harry didn’t know back then how to respond, trying a shy “ _...sorry?_ ” while on the inside he asked himself if that was going to be his friend’s reactions, his ex-girlfriends reactions, his family - a matter of how it changed things for themselves instead of being a piece of who Harry was.

Niall’s answer, a simple “ _fuck off as if a prick like you would have a chance in hell with a cool guy like him anyway_ ” from a mutual Harry had never even interacted, had come as a delightful surprise. Instead of thanking him properly, Harry had sent him an ask with a simple “trololo”.

Sixteen year old him was an imbecile, but thankfully Niall had been another one.

(Gemma may be quite right sometimes when she says they still are).

And that, how they say, was that. From an ask to another they spoke and exchanged numbers, and even though Niall knew his real name, somehow “Marcel” had become his nickname and Niall refused to call him anything else. He said it “ _matched Harry’s deep, black-and-white aesthetic angsty soul_ ”. And also his morbid voice.

Back then, Harry might have developed a slight crush on Niall, but then again Harry was still sure everyone who meets Niall is kind of in love with him. Thankfully, he’d grown out of it and they could enjoy their friendship with no problems, besides the distance between Holmes Chapel and Mullingar.

_are u mad_

**no, i’m asking the ceiling why we’re friends again**

_the ceiling is saying you’re friends cuz the ceiling is awesome and nobody can top that_

_besides djokovic_

Harry laughed loudly, the kind of laugh that echoed through every room he was in, too loud to be socially acceptable. He was kind of over that, by now. If there was one thing he’d learned the past couple of years of being out of the closet, was accepting himself exactly how he was. Thankfully, the dumb ask he’d gotten had been the only trouble he got, his family and closest friends being nothing but accepting to who he was. And everyone else, Harry didn’t give two flying shits.

He rubbed his eyes under his glasses, misplacing them a bit while he did so. The hotel bed he was lying on was nothing but softly and terribly comfortable, but still he felt tired, his bones heavy from all the walking around London he’d done. It didn’t stop him from thinking that ‘a week of travel with all spends paid’ to London as a birthday gift was the best thing he could have thought of, never mind he’d spend it all alone and therefore free to do _whatever the fuck he wanted_ \- including waking up at 11 am and going straight to the London Eye to wish himself a Happy Birthday with London beneath him, and killing time off alone in his hotel room draped over the bed in no clothes.

**djokovic wouldn’t be so lucky as to have a white arse as yours, horan**

Ideally, he’d be hitting the London streets, going to a gay club or whatnot, getting shagged into an inch of his life and starting his adulthood with a bang.

Ha. A bang. Niall would love that.

**i should go out and start adulthood with a bang**

_what have i been TELLING YOU MARCEL wait_

_ooooooh_

_haha cheers so you want that leather daddy or what i already have him on speed dial_

**shut up you have jolene on speed dial**

_how many times do i have to tell you to stop naming our cows, marcy arse-y_

Harry chuckled once more, turning over on the bed and pushing his glasses back up on his face before opening his chat with his mom to send her the pictures he took that day. Truth was, despite the jokes he was all too happy to stay in and resting from the day of touristing and taking pictures around the city. London was huge, and he couldn’t wait till he left sixth-form and moved to London once and for all, and with Niall along with him to make it even cooler.

**i’ll name them however and whenever i want, horan moron**

_that doesn’t rhyme_

**your face doesn’t rhyme**

His mother liked all his photos, as she always did. He perused them slowly, choosing which one to post on his instagram and which one should he post to his tumblr. Maybe make a photoset for his birthday? He did take some great pics - if he could say so -, but it felt somewhat lonely to post his pics of old posters, parks and other people as his own birthday day, no matter it was how he spent it.

In the end, he chose a pic of a typical bus, route 18, destined to Harrow Road because he was hilarious. He didn’t even put the black and white filter on this one, posting it to his instagram with “ _No longer the Dancing Queen_ ” under. He kept refreshing it with a smirk, seeing all the happy birthday wishes and cackling loudly when Niall’s “ _you can’t dance OR jive_ ” comment appeared.

Yeah, there was no problem in being alone in your own birthday. Talking to his favourite people online, naked in a comfy bed and listening his favourite playlist? Perfect way into adulthood, if he could say so himself.

The phone ringing at the bedside table did burst his happy bubble a bit.

He refused to get up and take it, sure it was a mistake. Instead, he moved like a snake, slithering through the covers till his hand managed to grab the phone and pull it back to his ear.

“Hm. Hello?”

“Hi, Mr Styles?” A male voice asked on the other side. By the accent alone, Harry knew it was Liam, a guy who was always extremely nice to Harry. He’d talked briefly to Harry the night before when he arrived with his camera in hand, asking Harry if he was a professional photographer or something. Amidst their talking, Liam’d learned the reason for his travel down to London and Harry was happily surprised with a Birthday cupcake that morning.

“Yes?”

“May I send the pizza boy up to your room?” His voice sounded a bit nervous, a edge to it of unsureness.

“The what?”

“The pizza boy. Man. The pizza delivery.”

“The…” Harry shut his mouth with a click, sitting up on the bed suddenly. He was gonna kill Niall. But first, he had to do something about the situation at hand. “Is he naked?”

“ _I beg your pardon?_ ” Liam sputtered on the other side of the line, his voice probably too high and loud for the reception hall.

“Sorry, sorry, send him in!” Harry felt himself getting nervous. “Up! Send him up, not in. I mean.” He sighed, ashamed of the mess it’d become. “It’s room 280.”

“Yeah, I know.” Liam chuckled.

“Yeah, I mean.” Harry had been having such a good time. He was gonna obliterate Niall. “Thank you. Have a good night.”

“Ok, he’ll be right up. Good night and bon appetite, Mr Styles.”

Harry could hear the smile in Liam’s voice, probably trying to forget the awkward moment that had passed between them. Which was even the more reason to curse himself when Harry answered with a hurried, “thanks, you too.”

Fuck. Adulthood was kicking him in the arse and it hadn’t even properly began.

He probably spent too long thinking about how to politely tell the stripper pizza boy how to go away, and even longer trying to reason with himself why he wouldn’t accept a stripper paid by his best friend into his hotel room to have a fun night with, because he hadn’t gotten up yet but already there was a knock on his door. He cursed loudly, putting on his jeans haphazardly and sweater he’d wore earlier that day, pushing his glasses back to his face after being askew from the sweater when another knock came.

“Just a minute!”

He stalked towards the door, before he turned back to the bed and grabbed his phone to send a quick “i’m going to fucking kill you” to Niall. Once it was sent, he walked towards the door again, opening it just in time to see a couple of tattooed knuckles ready to knock once again.

Harry blinked repeatedly, staring at the man in front of him. He had to give it to Niall, despite the pizza boy look being horrendous (who the fuck thought a cap and ugly blue uniform jacket was sexy?), the lad was so Harry’s type he felt kind of dizzy, either due to the blue eyes, the piercings or the tattoos he could see peeking out of his clothes.

Quite possibly due to the stubble though.

“Hm. Sorry for the,” Harry waved his hand inside the room, trying to convey why he had taken so long to answer the door with a flick of his wrist. “Delay. I mean,” he chuckled humorlessly, unsettled by the lack of expression on the other boy. “Oops?”

“Hi, my name is Louis and here’s your pizza,” Louis spoke tonelessly, his voice and heavy accent dissonant to the whole image he presented. “If you don’t mind-”

Harry took it as the moment to interrupt him before anything unsavoury happened in front of the hotel cameras of the corridor. “Listen, please do come in before anything happens.”

Louis twitched his eyebrows, clearly confused over what Harry wanted. Harry wondered if it meant he was unwilling to go anything further than a quick strip tease, which was a pity because Harry _knew_ underneath that awful pizza boy costume laid a great shag.

Not that he would say anything like that out loud, though.

Louis seemed to make up his mind, because he walked inside with a big box of what actual delivery people held, and Harry was thoroughly impressed for a moment by how accurate strippers seemed to be. However, watching Louis move in front of him, Harry kind of regretted not telling Niall he wanted a policeman, just imagining the possibilities if Louis had appeared with a set of handcuffs instead of that huge box he was carrying. Then again, Officer Louis did have a nice ring to it, although Harry gathered that wasn’t his real name or surname.

“So,” Louis began again, voice still apathetic. “It’s-”

“Look,” Harry scratched his head, unsure of how to continue. “Louis. I’m sure you’re a nice lad and all.”

Louis seemed to be struggling to keep his expression in check, his lips flattening out in a mockery face, kind of like a clown. He stopped himself just in time, going for a slight smile that he coupled with a rasped out “thank you”, a small tone of disbelief finally colouring his voice.

“Yes, sure, I mean it. It’s just,” Harry sighed and mumbled lowly, “I’m gonna fucking kill Niall.”

Louis seemed to be in a hurry, because he didn’t wait for Harry to try again.

“Thanks for the compliment, now-”

“It’s a mistake, I know it is.”

Louis closed his mouth midsentence, staring attentively at Harry. “Is your name, uh,” he looked down at the receipt in his hand, “Marcel Styles?”

He was going to _fucking kill Niall._

“Well, er-”

“Then this one's for you, mate.” Louis raised his hand holding the box, shaking it a little bit. It made a heavy sound, and Harry panicked, wondering exactly what was inside. Was it possible Niall had hired some extra party benefits or somewhat?

“It’s just that I don’t think it’d be appropriate and all.” He blurted out, eyes focused on the box Louis was holding to avoid looking at the man. “I mean, my mom is paying for this hotel, you know? I don’t wanna be like, kicked out of it and whatnot. Sometimes Niall takes it too far, and believe me, _I would love to_ , my God your face is lovely and I would really love to, but I can’t do this.”

“ _What?_ ” The incredulity in Louis’ voice was so big Harry winced, also just as confused as to why he was denying such a perfect gift.

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry,” Harry sighed and braced himself, looking into Louis’ eyes once more. Eye contact seemed like the best action here, to seem earnest and sorry for the whole trouble - and if Louis found that attractive and decided to give him his phone number so they could grab a cuppa or something tomorrow, then there would be nothing wrong. “I just don’t think we should follow through with this, is all.”

“Mate,” Louis passed a tired hand over his face, and then down his hair, shaking it a little bit. “It’s already paid off, if you don’t want it, it’s alright. But it’ll be your loss.”

“I know! Trust me, I know. When Niall said extra topping, I didn’t take him into consideration but he did go above and beyond with you.” Harry shrugged embarrassedly. “Sorry, I think that was out of the line.”

Louis seemed to have let go of all pretenses, staring straight into Harry with a face so completely confused Harry couldn’t stop himself from chuckling a bit.

“It’s not everyday you’re denied of your services, is it?”

“Well, no? Usually people is quite happy to see me.”

“And I am, believe me.” He bit his lower lip. “Niall thought it was gonna be a great birthday gift, and I kind of agree, but not here nor under these circumstances.”

“Right.” Louis dragged the word along, still staring at Harry baffled. “Happy birthday, I guess.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Harry smiled. “This seems good enough, see? No need for anything else, so we’re good.”

“Okay,” Louis began, yet again dragging the word along. “But are you sure you don’t want to make your birthday even better with-” he lowered himself a bit to reach the bag and zip it open.

“No, please, no-”

Louis put his hand inside the bag, finishing his sentence while he took his hand back out at the same time Harry spoke his denial emphatically.

“-a pizza?”

“-no strip teases!”

Silence reigned for a moment, Louis holding a pizza box towards Harry, his grasp on it quite limp as he stared open mouthed at Harry’s panicked face.

“What did you just say?”

“Oh my God, are you a real pizza boy? Or is there like a leather whip inside that box?”

“ _What did you just say?_ ” Louis repeated, his voice even more hysteric than before.

“I’m sorry!” Harry gulped, a dawn of terror falling upon him as he realized how badly he’d fucked up. “You’re a real boy, aren’t you? Pizza boy. Fuck! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, my best friend was teasing me about being alone for my birthday and he said he was going to send me a stripper dressed as a delivery boy or a leather daddy whatever the fuck that means and I said no but then you knocked and I didn’t ask for pizza so obviously I thought he had made it good from his promise and,” Harry took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling it forcefully. He had never in his whole life spoken so quickly or been this ashamed, but so it goes.

A beat passed, then two. Louis was still staring straight at him, open mouthed and awfully gorgeous in the terribly real pizza delivery uniform.

Harry finished lamely, voice back to his normal tone. “Sorry.”

That was all it took for Louis to laugh so hard and so loudly folded himself in half, miraculously not dropping the pizza box to the floor.

“What the fuck! This is genius, but what the fuck!”

There weren’t enough words in the english vocabulary to define just how ashamed Harry was at that moment, watching Louis, the real pizza boy, laugh so hard at Harry’s face he had tears running down his cheeks. And to make matters worse, as they’re supposed to, that was the moment Harry realized he’d forgotten to put on his pants before he put his jeans on and they were probably still thrown somewhere on the floor.

He wondered if it was too late to try for a university in the USA or Australia or Mars to never set foot in London ever again after that day.

Louis had started to calm himself, but the moment Harry started to talk he would go off into another set of cackles. It went like this twice more, with Harry feeling as if he were in an out of body experience, watching the whole situation from another plane of existence.

Somehow, he knew this had been Niall’s fault nonetheless.

“Ok, that was fun.” Louis cleared his throat, not even waiting for an invitation before he sat down on the bed. Harry didn’t say anything, still too embarrassed to uncross his arms or move at all. “Completely unexpected, but I’ve already seen my fair share of weird shit in this job anyway. However, _this_ ,” he gestured towards Harry, “takes the biscuit.”

Harry hugged himself harder.

“Aren’t you a bit young to be dealing with strippers? Isn’t that illegal? What’s the age of consent to hire for strippers? Can you even be alone with no supervisors in a hotel?”

“Hey, I just turned 18.” Harry pushed his glasses back on his face.

“Sure, Bambi, I can hear your mighty roar alright.” Louis smirked.

“Bambi is a deer.” Harry replied unamused.

“And so are you.” Louis smiled cheekily, ignoring his glare.

“Deers can’t roar.”

“What’s the sound they make then?”

Harry opened his mouth to answer before he realized he had no fucking clue what it was. Louis continued anyway.

“I bet it’s a fawn-y one.”

It took Harry a second to get it.

“Oh God.” He laughed loudly, the squeaky laugh he dreaded to let out in front of cute guys, but that night seemed his shame had no end.

It was only when his giggles stopped that he realized Louis was staring at him with a genuine smile on his face.

“There, much better.” He clicked his tongue. “I knew you would be the type to like puns.”

Harry chuckled awkwardly, unsure on what to answer.

“Look, kid, there’s no need to be ashamed, ok? People make mistakes, that shit happens. Lucky for you, you were my final delivery for tonight, so I’m not even mad for wasting my time, you know?” He put a hand on top of the pizza box on top of the bed covers, the 28 tattooed on his knuckles stark against the combination of his skin, the blue of his jacket and the box. “Fuck, this isn’t even the worst thing I’ve had to deal with, I’d much rather be mistaken for a stripper than have to deal with naked customers, believe me.”

Harry bit his lips, thinking about how he had been one of those naked customers just moments before.

“So, cheer up, there’s no need for that deer in the headlights look. It’s alright now, yeah?”

“Sure.” Harry mumbled, fidgeting with his hands.

“Now grab yourself a plate and get this party started, because there’s a pizza here all paid for and waiting just for you.” He tapped on top of the box.

Harry looked at it for a second before looking back at Louis, a sudden decision made. “I think the very least I can do after this whole fiasco is share it with you.” He pulled his glasses back. “The pizza, I meant. If you’re willing.”

Louis hummed. “You make a hard bargain, Bambi, and it’s very hard to say no to pizza, but I can’t eat your birthday gift.”

“We’ll share it.”

“I’ll probably be cursed by the birthday Gods and get a bellyache.”

“You,” Harry snickered, amused by Louis’ sense of humor since it wasn’t settled on Harry’s complete humiliation of himself. “You’re insane.”

“I wasn’t the one who thought the delivery man was a stripper, mate.”

“Fine,” Harry rolled his eyes. “It was a honest mistake, please let it go. I’m offering you pizza as a compromise, no bellyaches, no teasing, just pizza.”

“Not even a can of pop?”

“That depends, is it paid for?”

“Uh,” Louis looked down at the receipt on top of the box. “No.”

“Damn, Nialler, you cheap fuck.”

Louis laughed once more.

“You think there’s a Tesco opened at this time?” Harry tried, hopeful.

“Can’t we grab something from the minibar?”

“Do I look like I’m rich?”

“Well,” Louis looked around himself to the hotel room around them then back to Harry. “Yeah.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Is this some Home Alone The Fifth Sequel kind of thing then?”

“More like Homo Alone.” Harry snickered, happy to see Louis follow suit.

“Fine, my shift is over, I’m free and you’re offering pizza.” He got up from the bed, quickly putting the pizza box back inside the huge bag it came in. “Come on, Bambi, let’s go after some open Tesco store and get this over with.”

“Uh.” Harry bit his lip, suddenly unsure. “You don’t have to come, if you don’t want to.”

“Hey now, no going back on your promise.” Louis raised a finger at him, pointing it to his face menacingly. Harry noticed amused that he was shorter than Harry. “You promised me half of your birthday pizza, no bellyaches and no teasing for your atrocious mistake, and now there’s no turning back.”

Harry smiled slowly, “sure, let me just put on my boots and we can go.”

He walked quickly to his open bag, grabbing his pair of boots and putting them on. He stopped for a moment, wondering if there was a way of excusing himself to put on his pants that wasn’t completely and utterly embarrassing, but finding no answer he let it go, accepting his fate as it was. He took his wallet and room key and put them on his pocket, then on a last minute impulse took his camera as well and put the strap around his arm like a bag. Louis looked at it then up to Harry’s face with a smirk.

“Tourist.”

“Hey,” Harry pouted.

“Let’s go.”

They exited the room in silence, then moved to the elevator and down side by side, still quiet. Harry waved at Liam once they passed him by the front desk, and he waved back with a slight puzzled frown, warm brown eyes focused on the weird duo walking down the foyer.

Harry just smiled and kept following Louis, wondering what the fuck he was doing but excited by it nonetheless. And the nervous voice at the back of his mind could fuck the right off.

“So here it is.”

Harry stopped beside Louis, bracing himself against the could wind of the night. “What is?”

“The best goddamn car you’ve ever seen in your whole life.” He pointed towards a beaten down toyota in an ugly red.

“I thought we would walk there.” Harry tried, taking his gaze away from the car in front of him.

“Are you crazy? Do you wanna get mugged?”

“I dunno, maybe it was nearby here.” Harry shrugged.

“Maybe you could shut your gob and get inside the car, come on, Bambi.”

“That’s not my name.”

“I don’t care,” Louis deadpanned. “Car, go on.” He pointed with his finger, opening the backdoor to put the box inside the car then closing it.

Harry didn’t wait around, the cold wind messing with his curls enough to get him inside the car despite his distaste for it. Inside, he could see a pair or vans thrown under his feet and what looked suspiciously like a cd case opened and upside down. While he bent down to look better at it, the driver’s door opened and Louis came in, wearing a completely different set of clothes.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

“I told you my shift was over, did you honestly expect me to go around town in my uniform?” Louis asked, taking his keys out of his jeans jacket pocket and putting them into the ignition to start the car.

Immediately, ABBA started playing and Harry snickered.

“Oh shut up, stripper boy, I want you to have enough energy to drive around London on a cold night like this one without some good old ABBA playing on the background.” Louis huffed, taking the CD out of the sound system of the car. Harry refused to comment on how quaint it was to still have one in 2012, since he was being nice enough to drive Harry around.

“Nothing wrong with ABBA, I don’t see why you’re trying to explain yourself.” Harry smiled, but picked the case up from the floor. “What you’re feeling like, then? Need to establish your rebel punk image now? Is it a thing?”

“Fuck yeah it is a thing,” Louis mumbled while he drove off into the traffic. “Grab me some Billy, would you? Or maybe Stooges, either works.”

Harry picked a burned off cd with no writings instead, and put it inside the system. Soon enough, they both recognized it was a Blondie song instead and Harry started laughing loudly.

“You’re a menace, is what you are. I should kick you out of my fucking car,” Louis grumbled, eyes focused on the road.

“But you’d be without pizza if you did it.” Harry replied, still laughing.

“I’d kick you out and keep the pizza, two for one deal.”

“What about the birthday Gods? They’d totally curse you with the bellyache of the century if you did so.” He leaned closer to Louis, mindful of the seatbelt putting pressure against his chest, “imagine it, explosive diarrhea.”

He cackled once more at Louis’ horrified face.

“Bloody hell, you’re a fucking kid.”

“I think we both established I am eighteen.” Harry sobered up, then continued. “So there’s nothing wrong in taking me on a date, you know.”

Louis hummed, and kept silence.

Harry bit his lip and leaned back against his seat, watching the city pass by behind the window. The cd was a collection of random songs, or so it seemed, because 99 Red Balloons came after and Harry let it comfort him as they drove around the city. Soon enough, it was obvious Louis didn’t have a set path chosen, or he was lost, because they drove aimlessly and quite slowly through the streets of London.

“How old are you, anyway?” He asked after some time, voice a tad curt due to being ignored about it being a date or not.

“Older than you.”

“Sure, by how much?”

“A couple of years.”

“ _You’re twenty_?” Harry couldn’t hide the surprise from his voice.

“Yeah, and you’re eighteen, now what?”

“And you’re acting like you’re so much older, what the fuck, Louis,” Harry huffed annoyed, “self-conceited git.”

“Oi, I heard you.” Louis called back, flicking him on the leg with one hand and holding the steering wheel with the other.

“Quite the feat, considering your old man ears.” Harry smirked, flicking Louis’ hand back before he pulled it away. From the corner of his eye, he could see Louis was smiling as well.

“Little shit.” Louis said, voice amused.

“Explosive diarrhea.” Harry replied.

“Is that a warning or an insult?”

“Both.”

They snickered, and silence fell once more.

In the end, they passed by an open Tesco and Louis slowed down, looking for a place to park on the street not too far away. Luckily, they found one by the end of the street and Louis parked smoothly, not overtly showing off but Harry could see the showiness of his movements over the wheel either way. He rolled his eyes and got out of the car, fighting back a smile.

Walking down the street after Louis, he remembered he had his camera with him and brought it up to his eye, taking a pic of his back while he walked towards the store, the empty street and the lights around making a nice background from his image. He took another one from his profile when he turned to look at Harry.

“What are you doing?”

“A photo shoot.”

“I’m gonna sue you for image rights.” Louis smirked, now walking backwards and watching Harry keep taking pics of him.

“You’re gonna die if you keep walking backwards.” Harry laughed, delighted by the one pic he just took of Louis with his arms raised and face upwards, his Stone Roses t-shirt bright white against the dark of the night around them.

“O’ sweet death angels! If my time has come, let it be sweet and merciful, like an-”

“Oh god, don’t-”

“-ORGASM.” Louis finished loudly, cackling madly.

“You’re the fucking worse,” Harry smiled, taking a final picture of Louis’ smirk as they entered the store.

“You’re still here.”

“I need my soda.”

“Soda-sappointing.” Louis snickered.

Harry rolled his eyes and pushed Louis softly towards the refrigerators isle, but before they made it he pulled him inside a different one, filled with candies and chocolate bars.

“The fuck?”

“I need something sweet.”

“But you’re sweet enough.” Louis smiled and patted Harry’s face, dislodging his glasses for a moment.

“Coming too strong, man.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Louis raised an eyebrow at him challengingly and finally, _finally_ Harry felt like they really were on the same level.

Harry didn’t want to make it easy though, instead looking Louis from head to toe and humming noncommittally. Louis huffed and slapped him on the head, turning to walk down the aisle looking at the different brands of sweets.

“I hate to see you leave, but I do love to watch you go.” Harry called back, staring at Louis’ arse inside the pair of comfortable jeans he was wearing.

“Perv.”

“Who you calling perv, old man?” Harry started walking behind Louis, mindlessly bringing his camera up once more and snapping pics of him.

“The prick who keeps taking aesthetics pics of my arse.” He gasped and turned around, finger raised accusatory to Harry. “You’re a hipster!”

“No, I’m not,” Harry denied and took another pic of Louis’ unbelieving face.

“Yes, you are.” He crossed his arms and Harry took another one. “Fuck, I should know it was too good to be true. It’s because of the curls, isn’t it?” He gasped theatrically. “Damn, the glasses! I thought you were a nerd, but you’re just a hipster.”

“I’m neither,” Harry pouted.

“Spoken as a true hipster.”

“Am not.”

“Am too.”

“That,” Harry smiled, unable to contain himself, “doesn’t make sense.”

“Your face doesn’t make sense, Marcel.” Louis turned, too pleased with himself as he browsed the shelves for something.

Meanwhile, Harry didn’t know what to do - besides killing Niall. How the fuck would he politely correct Louis that Marcel _wasn’t_ his actual name? What if he thought the pizza wasn’t for Harry and went back to work to deliver it? Or even worse, what if Harry had to explain to him why Niall put Marcel as his name and Louis figured out he had a tumblr and truly called him hipster then? Or thought he was _lame_?

He’d better keep fucking quiet. It wasn’t as if Louis was totally wrong in the end. Just slightly mistaken.

And being slightly mistaken about Harry’s actual name wouldn’t exactly put a stop to their flirting, so Harry better keep quiet about it.

“So, which one do you like?”

Harry focused back on Louis standing in front of the chocolate bars. He couldn’t stop himself from picking the camera back up to take another pic.

“Stop that,” Louis pouted and Harry took another one, prompting a very dramatic eye roll. “Sweets, Marcel. Which one do you like the most.”

“Are you on the list?”

“Only if you like sour, bitter ones.”

“Somehow,” Harry chuckled, approaching Louis slowly. “That sounds like all talk and no bite to me.”

“You don’t know that.” Louis arched an eyebrow, amused. When Harry stopped beside him, he bit on nothing to prove his point, his mouth opening wide in an empty bite.

Harry hummed and reached out for a M&M’s packet in front of him, all too aware of Louis still looking at him. “That is true. How about you tell me more about yourself so I can figure it out?”

“Smooth.”

“Like a mousse.”

Louis snorted. Harry bit his lip to try and contain his grin, but when he turned to look at Louis it proved to be useless - he had crinkles by his eyes, so hard was he holding back his laughter.

“That one was terrible,” he still said.

“You liked it anyway.” Harry smiled, too content with himself.

“Maybe,” Louis clicked his tongue. “Is that the one? Can we go? I want my pizza.”

“Yes, come on.” Harry thought about reaching out and touching his hand, but somehow that felt too bold. Too soon. Maybe Harry had had the courage to flirt, and now he was being flirted back, but who knew. Sometimes guys got scared by the prospect of too much too soon when all they wanted was something quick.

(Not that Harry wasn’t completely happy to have just something quick to remember the day by, he sure wasn’t picky. He still wanted to try anyway and not fuck it all up.)

When they got to the fridge, Louis was quick to open the door and grab a coke can. He turned to look at Harry, waiting for him to say what he wanted, but Harry just shrugged.

“Really?”

“Yeah, surprise me with something good.”

“You like Heineken?”

“With pizza? Never tried it.”

“Jesus, you really are just a kid.” Louis huffed, and stared at the options in front of him, the glass of the open door condensating quickly and blurring the image of Louis to Harry. Again, he picked his camera and clicked the shutter just in time to capture Louis picking up a beer bottle. He stopped once he heard it, looked at Harry with a smirk and pressed his index finger to the door, writing a quick ‘Hi’ on it that Harry also captured in a pic. He couldn’t know for sure, but he’d bet that one would be his favourite one, with the mischief in Louis’ face illuminated by the lights around them and his finger pressed firmly against the dot on top of the i.

“Your first legal drink,” he let the door close behind him and raised the bottle to Harry see, “and it will be on me.”

“Who says it will be my first?”

“Won’t it?”

“Maybe,” Harry smiled and grabbed the bottle. “Thanks.”

“Let me pay for it first, Bambi.” Louis tapped his coke can against it and walked down the aisle, towards the main entrance and the cashiers there. Harry followed suit, and just watched as Louis paid for both their drinks, polite to the cashier even though the boy was looking incredibly bored through it all.

They walked in silence, side by side, with Harry feeling giddy as their steps echoed through the empty street, his boots loud while Louis’ vans were almost silent. He wondered aloud if Louis would make them eat somewhere outside his car, despite the cold, or if he would bring them back to the hotel.

“I’m gonna make you sit by the curb while I eat inside with my heater on.”

“Oh, man,” Harry snickered, “but I so wanted to listen to ABBA again.”

“Don’t disrespect ABBA, lad.”

Harry gasped theatrically. “I would _never._ ”

“Good,” Louis smiled and unlocked the doors to his car, “now hop in before I change my mind.”

Harry got in quickly, happy to be out of the cold. Louis took his time to get the pizza from the back seat, so Harry took his boots off and pushed his seat back a bit, just so he could sit more comfortably with his legs crossed, socked feet tucked cozily underneath his thighs.

“By all means, make yourself at home.” Louis laughed as he got in, pizza box in his hands. He passed it over to Harry, then set in to turn the heater on. He didn’t wait for Harry this time, picking up the cd case and searching through it until he found one he liked and put it on.

“Let me show you how we old people like our music,” he said as the music started to play. “You ever heard some 80s banggers?”

Harry glowered at him, lowering the top of the box in disbelief. “Do I look like I wouldn’t know?”

“A bit, yeah,” Louis snickered, just in time for Billy Idol to start playing.

“Fuck you, my mom taught me well,” Harry pouted and finally opened the box, taking a piece and offering it to Louis. “Here.”

“Pepperoni? A man after my own heart.”

“We gotta thank Niall for that,” Harry smiled, picking a slice up and biting into it right away.

They ate in silence, just the loud hum of the heater and the music breaking the silence amidst their chewing. Once or twice Harry played the fool, dropping a bit of cheese on his sweater and putting it back in his mouth while he and Louis giggled because of it. It was only when he’d finished his second slice that Harry remembered his beer and grabbed it.

“You sure this is good?”

“Yeah, I do it all the time with my mates.”

Harry hummed, pretending not to be as interested as he was in that reply. He opened the bottle easily, took a swing, took his time with it, then asked, “uni mates?”

Louis snorted. “No, fuck no. My band mates, no uni for me.”

“So you got a band?” Harry perked up interested, mouth still close to the bottle.

“Yeah, I just told you that,” Louis giggled, “did the beer go up to your head already?”

“Oh, shut up.” Harry glared at him, then drank half the bottle in a go. “There. Now, tell me more about your band and why no uni for you.”

“Well,” He ran the back of the hand not holding his coke can against his nose, and it was too cute for Harry to know how to deal with. “I tried a term, back when I was a young lad at the tender age of 18.”

Harry snorted, amused. He pushed his glasses back against his face, annoyed at how they were sliding down the bridge of his nose. “What course did you take?”

“Drama, of all things. Can you believe?”

“Something tells me that you already got a PhD in Drama anyway.”

“For the sake of this blossoming friendship, I will pretend you didn’t say that or I’d have to kill you,” Louis glared at him.

“See what I mean?” Harry couldn’t help replying.

“Anyway,” He tossed his head to take his fringe out of his eyes, and the little smile he had at the corner of his mouth made it clear he knew exactly how that matched Harry’s little joke. “So there I was, 18 and miserable because of the classes, trying to find the meaning of life or happiness in one of those campus parties. Then, in a memorable one, they set up a karaoke set-”

“-like High School Musical?”

“- _exactly_ like High School Musical, and although I didn’t find the Gabriela to my Troy, I did break free from uni with the band that had just asked me to join them.”

“That,” Harry spoke among cackles, “was _terrible_.”

“Hey!” Louis slapped him softly against the arm.

“So did you bop bop bop to the top with your band already?”

“Yes, that’s why I’m a multi-millionaire pretending to be a broke wanker pilfering some pizza off some tourist like you.” Louis mocked him, his face twisting in a funny face that got Harry laughing again. However, he still managed to stop long enough to give Louis another slice of pizza and grab himself a new one.

“What’s your band’s name?”

“Flamboyant and sinister.”

Harry stopped with the pizza halfway to his face. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.” Louis shrugged.

“That’s _amazing_.”

Louis snorted, despite his mouth full of pizza. He shrugged again as if to say ‘ _I try_ ’ and Harry cackled in delight, truly, completely bewildered by him. Not only was he cute and willing to play along with Harry’s shit, but he had a sense of humour and amazing cheekbones.

Long story short, if Harry didn’t get some that night he would be terribly, wildly disappointed.

“What do you play?”

Louis swallowed before replying. “We got some originals, but mostly we do covers. You know, Green Day, The Fray, Rihanna, whatever strikes our fancy.”

“Rihanna?”

“Rihanna.”

“Damn,” Harry began wistfully. “I got to see it. Do you sing Rude Boy or are you more like Disturbia?”

“We go full on S&M, babe.” Louis winked at him.

Harry waggled his eyebrows suggestively back at Louis, all while he bit into his slice. He probably looked stupid, but he was so comfortable hidden away from the world, just him and a cute boy, eating pizza and talking non-sense. It was liberating in a way, finding a stranger and having to introduce who you are the quickest way possible, to see how both of you click together, if they’re worthy having around.

It was obvious something was going on there, or Louis wouldn’t have accept his - very lame - attempt at keeping him around a little bit longer. If anything, he seemed to be just as excited for it as Harry was, offering his car for a ride around and instigating their talks. So at least they were on the same page, waiting for something, whatever it was, from the other.

Harry kept eating, happy with that knowledge. Even if it was just a nice night out with a cool company, or a thorough make out, or a blowie, Harry was in for it, 100%.

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

“What’s your life story? What brings you to London?”

Harry hummed, thinking how to talk about it without sounding like a complete bore. “I’m from Holmes Chapel, and will be finishing sixth form this year. So,” he shrugged slightly, cleaning his mouth with a napkin. “I kinda wanna come live in London, so I convinced my mum to let me come spend a week alone and see if I’d like the city. And, you know. That’s it, I guess.”

“Fascinating.” Louis said, turning so his back was against the door and he was facing Harry completely head on. “Truly extraordinaire.”

“That doesn’t sound sarcastic at all.” Harry glowered, staring at Louis’ taunting smile.

“Tell me more then, Marcel. What about that fancy camera you got? What’s the story behind it?”

Harry hoped more than anything Louis hadn’t seen his wince when he called him by the wrong name. That was something he really, truly, didn’t know how to veer into. ‘ _Hey, by the way, Marcel isn’t really my name, it’s kind of a nickname my best friend has for me, no, it isn’t my middle name or a family name, it’s about a french mime because I like a black and white aesthetic on tumblr dot com. I hope that isn’t lame enough to make you give up on making out with me, though?’_

Yeah, right.

“There isn’t much to tell, I just like taking pictures.” Harry picked his camera up from where it was hanging by its strap across his chest and took a pic of Louis, completely comfortable in his car, feet up on the seat and back against the door, wicked smile on his lips. He took another one when he crossed his eyes, then lowered it back against his chest. “I kind of wished I could become a professional photographer, but that’s hard, so I’m going to college instead and just keeping it a nice hobby.”

Louis booed him and threw a dirty napkin at his head.

“Hey.”

“Quitter.”

“That’s mean.” Harry scratched his chin, feeling the word deep inside his bones. “I’m just being realistic, you know.”

“You’re just being a quitter.” Louis said, crossing his arms. “I get it it’s hard and shit, but sometimes you just gotta give it a try, you know? And if it doesn’t work, at least you know it didn’t work instead of just giving it up before it even started.”

Harry looked down, silent. He didn’t know how to answer to that. When Louis said it, it seemed so easy, as if he could just follow him and give it a try - give _anything_ a try. But that was the high of meeting a stranger and going out of your usual routine talking, not a very rational thought to follow through.

“Sorry, I hope it didn’t sound mean.” Louis’ voice was slow and uncertain. Harry looked at him for a moment, then forced a smile out for him.

“It did a bit, yeah.” Louis flinched, apologetic face appearing for a second then making way for a more neutral expression. “Not everyone can just give it all up and just give their impossible dreams a try.”

“If you can, then why not?”

Harry shrugged instead of answering. He didn’t know how to put it into words anyway.

“Let’s say, how about when you come here to London you take some professional pics of our gigs?” Louis leaned forwards so he could look closer at Harry’s face. “What do you say? Come October or whatever, when you’re all settled into the city, I’ll let you into one of our gigs for free and even buy you a beer, and you can take as many pics as you want.”

“You just want me to take free photos of your cool band,” Harry pouted, fake disgruntled.

“Well, yeah.” Louis snorted, then extended his hand and pushed Harry’s glasses back up his nose. Harry didn’t realize he had leaned closer to Louis as well, but somehow they had been closer than expected. “But then again, I am your muse, am I not?”

“You’re not my muse,” Harry denied, but his slow grin kind of disregarded it.

“No?” He raised an eyebrow, “and what if I do this?”

Harry bit his lip to contain his laughter as Louis pulled on a smoky eye and pout combo, both hands framing his face stupidly.

“Definitely no.”

“You sure? Pick up your camera, try this on.” He then moved sideways, posing with both hands on the driving wheel and a dramatic head turn towards Harry.

“No way.”

“How about,” Louis moved back, resting his back against the door again, one feet up on the sit, one hand holding his head with its fingers passing through his hair, the other resting lazily on top of his knee. “This?”

Harry licked his lips, eyes traveling from Louis serious face to the open v of his legs. “Yeah, this could work.”

“Yeah?”

Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“Do it, then.”

Harry threw the box from his lap to the backseat haphazardly, his eyes focused on Louis’ face as he approached him, kneeling awkwardly over the gear to lean on top of Louis, both hands holding his weight against the door as he leaned down to kiss Louis on the mouth.

He tasted like pizza, to his complete and total lack of surprise. Probably they both did. It didn’t make it any less enjoyable, although Harry’s glasses were a bit annoying against their faces.

He leaned back just a fraction, enough to ask, “this ok?”

“Yeah,” Louis agreed, pulling him back down by the collar of his sweater.

Louis kissed faster, harder than Harry was used to, with his pace slow and easy. It took a third try to match it, find a middle ground for both, but when they did it felt electric, heat spreading through his body and tingling down his spine. However, despite how good it felt, he couldn’t maintain his pose for much and with a last peck against Louis’ lips, Harry sat back in his seat with a grin.

“There.”

“Oh, fuck you, you smug frog.” Louis laughed, a slight blush covering his cheeks. When they looked at each other, both grinning stupidly, Harry knew he’d done the right thing. Both averted their eyes at the same time, still grinning, terribly bashful.

“Now what?” Louis asked, his voice soft.

“We got a slice each left.”

“From the pizza box you just threw all over my backseat?” He looked back at Harry, trying to hold a mad face but he kept falling at holding back his smile.

“I closed it before throwing it back, smartpants.”

Louis snorted.

“Pick it up, let’s finish it once and for all.”

It was easier said than done. Not only had it fallen half opened and Harry had to pretend a little bit of grease didn’t stain the upholstery, but when he sat back and dug out their slices, it was clearly cold, greasy pizza they would be eating.

It didn’t stop them, both chewing loudly and opening their mouths wide to show its chewed content to the other.

“You’re a child.” Louis laughed, slapping Harry’s knee.

“So are you!” Harry replied, slapping Louis’ hand away.

They both stuffed the rest of the pizza inside their mouths, so they could slap fight while eating it. Luckily, they didn’t drop any, nor did they mind making out once more when they’d each swallowed the rest of it.

It was kind of disgusting, if Harry was being honest, but he wouldn’t trade it for the fucking world.

They split away grinning, and Louis pinched the bridge of Harry’s nose before ducking down and grabbing his coke can, finishing it in one go.

“You fight dirty.” Harry complained, following suit and grabbing his beer bottle, a sad two fingers left of lukewarm beer for him. He downed it anyway.

“I fight to win.” Louis burped, then patted his belly. “Deal with it.”

“Gross,” Harry stuck his tongue out in disgust, accidentally burping as well. It set off another round of laughter from them both, and when it calmed down both were half laid down on their seats, comfortable and just listening to the music surround them. Louis picked the cd case yet again, swapping cds and putting Smiths to play this time.

“I feel like I’m in 500 days of Summer now.” Harry giggled, humming to the sound of There Is a Light that Never Goes Out.

“Don’t taint my boys like that ever again,” Louis scrunched his nose in disgust. “I hate that movie.”

“I like it.”

“Hipster.”

“Punk.”

Each made a face at the other and let it go, enjoying the music in silence. By the end of it, Louis had reached down to Harry’s hand, both playing with their fingers, caressing the palm of their hands and the back of it, tugging on their fingers playfully and giggling once or twice. It kept like this for two other songs, until Harry broke the silence again.

“What do you wanna do now?”

Louis shrugged. “Whatever you want to. The night is young, and so are we.”

Harry smiled. “Do you know any place we can crash?”

Louis intertwined their fingers, looking down at it while humming. “There’s a place we always play gigs on. It’s not very, you know.”

“What?”

“High profile? Or well known?” He flinched. “Or even clean?”

“Take me there anyway.” Harry tugged Louis’ hand closer playfully.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I need to see my future workplace.” He smiled gleefully.

“Fine,” Louis chuckled, taking his hand back and turning to the driving wheel. “Buckle up, it’s a bit far away from here.”

It took them a 30 minute drive to arrive there, a long line of people waiting outside. The drive had been filled with more inane talking, more Smiths, all while Harry watched the city go by, glad to be where he was. It was kind of irresponsible of him, trusting someone he didn’t know to drive him around a city he wasn’t familiar with, and yet he felt like that had been the best decision he’d taken the whole week.

They parked a couple of streets down. When they got out of the car, Louis produced a pack of cigarettes from his jacket’s pocket, and after lighting one up he looked over at Harry with a concerned gaze.

“You mind?”

“No.”

“Cool.”

He locked the car, and before they walked down the street he addressed Harry again.

“Don’t you think it’s best leaving it at my car?” He pointed at the camera with his cigarette in between his fingers. “Someone’s gonna rob that.”

“I’ll take the risk.” Harry shrugged. He didn’t say out loud he would think taking pics of Louis was more important than keeping it safe, afraid to jinx it. While they approached the club, however, he could see Louis tensing up beside him, his shoulders taut while he walked.

“What is it?”

Louis shrugged.

“What?”

He sighed. “I dunno, just thinking if this is a good idea.”

“What, you think they’re really gonna rob me?”

“Yeah,” he snorted, “plus, I dunno if it’s the ideal place for someone like you, you know?”

“A hipster?” Harry frowned.

“Your words, not mine.” Louis snorted, pushing his shoulder against Harry’s. “But no. Like, a clean cut guy like you. Hotel worthy, and all.” He shrugged again. “Just 18 and naive.”

“Hey,” Harry elongated the last vowels. “I resent that.”

“It’s true.” He shrugged again.

“Let me be the judge of that, pizza boy.” He pushed his shoulder back against Louis’.

“Marcel, wait.” Louis called out, pulling on Harry’s sleeve. “This is serious, I have to tell you.”

They stopped in the middle of the street, a car swerving off them through the other lane and swearing loudly because of it. Neither paid attention, Harry staring attentively at Louis in front of him.

“What is it?”

“The truth is that-”

“ _What?_ ”

“I actually _am_ a stripper, and my name is Tommo the Tease.” He had earnest eyes, staring avidly into Harry’s.

“ _What?!_ ”

“And on Wednesdays,” he continued, voice just as keen, “we wear pink. And leather. Pink leather.”

“Oh fuck you,” Harry snorted. Louis continued staring at him, face solemn. “Wait, this is serious?” He asked in awe, stepping closer and touching Louis’ face softly, fingertips at the edge of his jaw being scratched by his stubble.

He snorted. “Fuck no, but you wish.”

“Oh my GOD.” Harry sighed heavily. “I fucking hate you.”

Louis cackled, pushing Harry towards the end of the line full of people waiting at the sidewalk. They didn’t wait around, instead he kept pushing Harry until they arrived at the entrance door, a promoter standing there overseeing who got in or not.

“Hey, Zayn, who’s playing tonight?” Louis stepped from behind him, walking up to Zayn and fist-bumping him.

“A girl band, they’re covering Arctic Monkeys. Kinda sick, wanna come in?”

“Yeah, man. Thanks.” They fist-bumped again and then Harry followed Louis inside, waving at Zayn timidly and getting a nod in return.

Louis hadn’t been lying. Inside, the place really was the kind of seedy club iconic bands played in at the beginning of their career but nobody remembered it because they were too drunk or high to care. It was kind of unsettling to his small town life how much he liked it.

“Ok, give me the truth,” Louis yelled at his ear, “how do you like it?”

“It’s crowded, it’s dirty, and it smells like smoke,” He yelled back. “I fucking love it.”

Louis beamed at him, delighted.

The show was already going on, so they didn’t mind about knowing the band’s name or what their setlist was. They chose a place to stay on, then let themselves dance to the sound of music, although the acoustic was so bad they could barely make out the words. Soon enough, the music ended and the well known tunes of I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor began, prompting both to dance harder, laughing loudly and screaming the lyrics.

Sometime along the night, they made their way to the bar, ordered a couple of Tequila shots and downed them. Harry didn’t mention about Louis driving, aware it probably meant they would take their time at the club and glad for it. It was harder to keep their talking in a loud place, but he didn’t mind, happy instead to enjoy the music and the noise around them, to have fun dancing, taking pictures of the place and people around them and making out with Louis against the bar counter.

It was a good night, he could say.

By the time they were playing 505, Harry had a buzz going underneath his skin, so he drapped himself over Louis’ arms and giggled the lyrics against his neck, shuffling his feet in a mock of a dance and kissing the skin there. The camera lay forgotten against his chest, full of memories from the night and how the lights fell against the band and the walls, the crowd, and most importantly against Louis; full of moments of how Louis moved, how he danced, how he looked like while singing, while drinking, while happy.

Harry was kind of fucked.

He giggled again, tracing the collar of Louis’ coat with his finger as he sang, “I’m going back to 505.”

Louis didn’t seem to mind the extra weight, instead pulling Harry closer, hugging him against his chest and nosing at his hair once or twice.

His buzz died down slowly as the night wore down.

First, when Louis went to the bar and came back with a water bottle for Harry.

Secondly, when they snogged in the middle of the dance floor to the sound of Only One Who Knows, both shuffling sideways slowly and not minding the people around them, Louis with his hands framing Harry’s face and Harry hugging Louis closer by the waist.

Thirdly, when the band announced the set was done and the show was over, with a last repeat of Fluorescent Adolescent at the crowd’s request.

And then the club emptied out slowly, people going away to somewhere else or staying and chatting, some dancing to the playlist the club put on. Harry didn’t want the night to end, so he moved a corner booth miraculously empty and sat down, glad to see Louis following him.

“So what did you think?”

“I honestly couldn’t have thought for a better birthday gift than this, so thank you.” He smiled, pulling Louis closer to him.

“Especially because your original option was to stay at the hotel, eating pizza and lazing around.”

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled, peppering kisses against Louis’ face.

“Were you gonna wank?”

“Fuck off.”

“You were, weren’t you?” Louis perked up, staring at him curiously.

“Of course I was gonna wank,” Harry rolled his eyes, then stopped and focused on Louis again. “No better way to enter adulthood than with a good orgasm.”

Louis smiled slowly, mischief irradiating from him. “Was that an invitation?”

Harry pretended to be disinterested by the prospect, shrugging nonchalantly at Louis. “Who knows?”

“Oh, fuck you.” Louis laughed, closing the distance between them for another kiss.

“That’s the idea.” Harry managed to mumble against Louis lips, earning some hair pulling in revenge because of it.

They took their time snogging in their little corner, partially hidden from the rest of the club. They didn’t pay attention to how much time passed, or how many people were still there, but they’d grown uncomfortably aware of how heated their kisses were turning out, Harry moaning once or twice against Louis’ mouth whenever he pulled on his hair or leaned down to kiss his neck. It was when Harry pulled his hand up Louis’ thigh and groped his cock through the denim that he called it a night.

“Come on, Bambi, get up, let’s get going.”

“But I’m having fun here,” Harry pouted, and Louis seemed to be having just as much fun, since he leaned back down to snog Harry some more.

He did seem to get into the program, because this time Harry was the one to stop their kissing at the same time he groped Louis’ cock again. “Unless you meant we should get going so you could give me a birthday blowjob, in which case, please,” he moved the heel of his palm against the head, earning a whimper from Louis, “lead the way.”

The awkwardness of getting up with boners and hiding it with their coats was barely registered as they moved out of the club, steps fast as they moved, both barely acknowledging Zayn on the way out. It seemed to be even later, the street almost empty once more as they walked down the street, laughing for no reason but the absolute giddiness of getting laid in the near future, Harry optimistic enough he rearranged his camera in his arm so it wasn’t in the way to any future action.

Louis did stop to make out with Harry against a car though, probably to shut his loud laugh up, or just to enjoy the free space Harry had made for their bodies.

When they made their way the couple of streets down to where the car was, instead of bolting to where it was, Louis pushed Harry against an empty alleyway, shushing him as he did so, hands making quick work of Harry’s trousers.

“Here?” Harry whispered, looking around to make sure no one was watching them.

“Yes, here,” Louis dropped to his knees, awfully comfortable in doing it in the middle of the street. “I’ll be fucked if I let you get cum on my car, and I won’t wait much longer anyway, Marcel.”

Oh.

Wait.

A million thoughts passed by Harry’s mind as he watched Louis lick his lips, pushing both Harry’s trousers down. There was the most obvious one about how pretty Louis looked on his knees with a smirk at Harry’s lack of pants, his cheekbones obscene against the streetlights and the shadows from the alleyway; then, how dirty it probably was to be leaning back against that wall and how many more couples had done the same thing as they were about to; also, how they weren’t using a condom and how it wasn’t safe; but most of all, most of all, how horrible of a name Marcel was and how awful it’d sound as a moan, even if it was Louis saying it.

Louis didn’t wait around, instead he dived in, licking a strip from Harry’s balls up to the tip of his cock, wanking him when he got to the tip, sucking it expertly. Harry felt his knees buckle, biting his lower lip hard to stop himself from moaning loudly. Louis took it as a challenge, leaning back a bit to stare at Harry with a raised eyebrow then closing back in, swallowing half his shaft in one go and sucking. Hard.

“Fuck,” Harry couldn’t help himself. He bit his lip again, then set both his hands on Louis’ head, just following his movements as he bobbed his head against his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so good at it, Louis.” He moaned lowly. “ _Fuck_.”

Louis pulled back to play at the tip again, sucking on it and pumping his hand at the base of Harry’s cock. The pressure and the pleasure from the base, despite the stimuli, wasn’t much, but combined with Louis’ mouth it was driving Harry mad.

“Glad you like it,” Louis pulled away to whisper against Harry’s cock, watching as his hand pumped it.

Before he sucked it back to his mouth, Harry had enough wherewithal to blurt out, “Harry.”

He stopped, then looked at Harry with complete astonishment. “What did you say?”

“Harry, my name is Harry.”

“No, it’s not.”

There’s a layer of total surrealness to have your own name denied by a stranger, while said stranger has your cock in their hands.

Harry was glad he was in the sort of situation he knew exactly how that felt.

“Uh, yeah, it is.” He cleared his throat sheepishly. “I know it’s a bad time and all, but I’d really hate for you to blow me thinking my name is Marcel. It is Harry, actually. Harry Styles. Kinda easier to pronounce. And to moan.”

Louis blinked back at him. “Then who’s Marcel?”

“He’s a French Mime.”

“That sure explains it.” Luckily the surprise hadn’t been enough to stop Louis’ ministrations, and Harry let out a small groan. “So, Harry.”

“Yeah?” He panted a bit, his toes curling inside his boots.

“Nice to meet you,” Louis flashed a grin at him, then swallowed his cock back, deep enough for Harry’s cock head to fit against his throat.

Deep down, he knew they were in a semi-public situation and he should be quiet, but Louis wasn’t being very fair and Harry couldn’t really contain himself. So every time Louis played with his balls, or sucked at his head, Harry let out a little helpless moan, overwhelmed by the sensation.

“Louis,” he tried to warn him. “I think I’m gonna-”

Louis didn’t pull back, instead he let Harry’s cock rest against his tongue while he jacked him off with his hand and sucked at the tip. Harry came moments later, with both hands pulling on Louis’ hair and with his hips moving a bit, seeking for more. He was pretty sure he’d moaned too loud, but he didn’t care, a buzz growing at the back of his head from the force of his orgasm.

He leaned against the wall and watched Louis turn his head sideways to spit, dislodging Harry’s hold on his hair. He let his hands fall uselessly to his side, not even ashamed of his fly open.

“You ok?”

“Never better.” Harry managed to reply, his voice lazy.

“Good.” Louis hummed, then got up. He was sweet enough to put Harry’s trousers back up, laughing against Harry’s jaw as he sorted his flaccid cock inside his pants. When he was done and Harry wasn’t exposed to the cold, he asked, “how about some retribution? Harold?”

“Actually, it’s just Harry,” he chuckled, kissing Louis at the same time he reached his hands to his zipper.

“You sure it isn’t Marcel?” Louis whispered against Harry’s lips, whimpering a bit when Harry pulled his cock out of his pants and started jerking it. “Fuck, yes, like this.”

“Yeah, I’m sure of it,” Harry laughed. His glasses were getting a bit fogged up due to Louis panting harder against his face, but he didn’t mind, not when his hands were pulling out the best noises out of Louis.

He reached behind Louis and groped his arse,  pulling him closer and massaging his cheek. “You got the best arse I’ve ever seen.”

“And you the best hands, now keep them working,” Louis replied, both of his hands curled up against Harry’s neck and curls. He pulled him down into a kiss, and Harry sped up his hands, the noise of it echoing in the alleyway along with Louis’ quiet pants against his mouth. It didn’t take long for Louis to come, Harry keeping a rhythm with his hands and his kisses and Louis spilled over his fist, whimpering Harry’s name against his lips as he calmed down from his orgasm.

Louis blinked his eyes open slowly, licked his lips and smiled up at Harry. “You were right, Harry really is a better name to moan.”

Harry chuckled, distracting Louis with another kiss for him not to see Harry cleaning his hand against the wall behind him.

When they parted, Louis pulled himself back inside his pants and trousers and cleared his throat. “Good, that was good. It’s kinda chilly, wanna go back inside my car?”

Harry snorted. “I’m pretty heated still, but sure.”

With Louis walking ahead of him, Harry could clean his hand better against the back of his jeans, wincing just a little at the prospect of crustiness. Louis kept his way, his hair being blown in every direction by the cold wind, and despite the cold and the lateness Louis looked like he didn’t want to be anywhere else. Harry reached for his camera once more and took a single photo, Louis partial profile a canvas of shadows and streetlights, a centerpiece to his small, satisfied smile.

Harry felt himself slowly, steadily falling in love as he fell in step behind him. As if he could follow him anywhere.

“How about we go see the sunrise by the Thames? We still got those M&M's, don't we?”

Harry smiled slowly. “Sure, lead the way.”

 


End file.
